


Spoiling for a Fight at Midnight

by LizaCameron



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s07e01 The Ticket, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-02
Updated: 2005-11-02
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: Josh and Donna finally fight it out, postThe Ticket





	Spoiling for a Fight at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

****

**by:** Spoiling for a Fight at Midnight 

**Character(s):** Donna, Josh  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Post-Ep for The Ticket  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The way you know that I don't own them… is because if I did, they would talk more often than once every six months.  
**Summary:** Josh and Donna finally fight it out, post The Ticket  
**Spoiler:** The Ticket  
**Beta'ed:** By Kim 

Whoever said that silence is golden, was an idiot.  Silence sucks.  Silence allows for introspection.  Silence invites memories, not all of them good. Silence reminds us that we really are all alone in this world.  Silence was the last thing that Josh Lyman needed.

Quiet reigned over the Santos/McGarry headquarters, because currently the campaign manager was the only one there.  These people he had surrounded himself with had no idea what it took to make a man President.  They also had no idea of the kind of dedication required once you got there.  He rubbed his eyes as he stared at the dry-erase board in front of him.  The words started to blur and run together.  

"You're not used to me being in a position of authority."

In the silence, those words, her words—actually, their entire conversation-- ran through his head as part of an unending torturous cycle.  He'd been fine during the day when the place was a bustle, when he was needed at every moment to formulate a response for a new crisis.  But in the night, in the silence, he couldn’t shake her voice.  

A swirling pit had been stewing in his stomach since the ill-fated interview.  But he didn't have time to think about why it was there.  At least that's what he told himself.  It was almost midnight on the day after she'd come to see him.  The interview had taken place… about 33 hours prior. The fact that he knew that didn't give him pause, but it should have. He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours since then and he was pretty sure it wasn't time to start now.  

The ding of the elevator broke him out of his daze.  When he glanced up, he was certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

Because she was there.  Walking towards him.  

***

Donna was angry.  

But that hadn't been the case when she'd left Santos/McGarry headquarters the prior day after her disastrous "job interview."  Then she'd been hurt and humiliated.  She'd kept her emotions in check until she'd arrived at the Metro.   Thankfully, no one on the train had talked to her or asked her what was wrong. The dark sunglasses probably helped with that.  She never lost it, but there were definitely a few tears and one or two dejected sniffles.

Of all the potential outcomes she'd spun in her mind before going to see Josh for a job, the scenario that actually played out… hadn't been among them. She was shocked. In her mind, the worst case scenario was that he would have offered her something… less than what she was applying for, like as his assistant or something.  But a 'no?'  He might as well have said, "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."  She hadn't expected that, but she probably should have.  She knew him better than anyone.

By the time she'd made it home, she was done feeling sorry for herself.  There would be no breakdown. No crying, wailing or gnashing of teeth, although she did indulge in ice cream. What situation wasn't made a little less bleak by the liberal application of Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chocolate Chip?  And she needed this situation to look less bleak… badly. 

She was angry at herself for her pitiful performance the day before.  She was angry that she'd let it get to this point.  She was angry that she still needed validation from him. She was angry at him for being so obviously tied in knots and pretending that he wasn't.  She was angry at the situation… and at the world.  She was angry, but she was also pragmatic.

That night she hadn't slept.  Her mind kept racing, playing the embarrassing scenario of the interview again and again in her head.  She had to do something.  An ending, a beginning… something. Everyone has their breaking point and yesterday, she'd reached hers.

***

She lucked out that the security guard on duty was ex-Secret Service.  A guy who had burned out after his involvement at Rosslyn, but who therefore knew exactly who she was and what she was to Josh.  She was glad someone did, because she certainly didn't.

Had that not been the case she had no idea whether she would have had the guts to call him and ask for permission to come up, so the security guard knowing her was one less hurdle she had to face.  When she stepped off the elevator, she saw him immediately.   All the lights on the floor were dim, save for those in the center conference room where he was apparently still working.  She knew he'd still be here.  

Her step faltered the second she realized he saw her.  He looked… like he was seeing an apparition.  After a second of hesitation, she decided that was good.  The element of surprise was a good thing when staging an attack.  That thought made her falter again.  Was that what she was doing?  Was she really launching a sneak attack on Josh?  Maybe.

His jaw dropped a little as she made her way towards him.  She was shaking and could feel her heart thudding wildly against her chest.  Her lone solace was that she was pretty sure he couldn't tell those things.  She also took comfort in the fact that she had no desire to cry or otherwise get emotional… yet.  At the moment, she was taking any victory, no matter how small.

"Hi." She said the word with purpose as she entered. By careful calculation, there was nothing tentative about her approach.

"Hi?" Surprise rang through the lone word.

She set on the conference room table the paper bag she'd been carrying and quickly began to unpack it. From it she took two sandwiches, two containers of soup and a six-pack of Sam Adams.  

"What…"  Josh didn't or couldn't finish the question as he watched her continue to unpack the food.

Donna looked up and stared him solidly in the eye.  She didn't flinch in the face of his not-exactly-friendly, but not-entirely-unfriendly expression.  "I've got a turkey muffaletta and a veggie delight. I figured we'd split 'em, go halvesies."

Dumbfounded, Josh watched as, true to her words, she split the sandwiches in half. She pushed a wrapper containing one half of each sandwich across the table in front of where he stood, still gaping. 

He glanced down at the food and recognized the turkey muffaletta as being from a deli near his place.  He loved them.  If he'd been thinking straight, he would have wondered if she'd gone to his place first.  But he wasn't.  When he looked back up, she was handing him a beer.  Not sure what else to do, he took it while watching her flip the cap off her own beer and take a sip.  

Finally, he found his voice.  "What are you doing?"

"Having a beer."

"I can… see that.  What-" He paused for a couple of beats, trying to get his bearings. "Why are you having a beer here?"

"When's the last time you ate?"  Without invitation, she sat down and casually propped her feet on the chair next to her. 

Without any idea what was happening, and therefore no way to mount a defense, he just answered the question. "I… um… had some Funyuns from the vending machine… this afternoon."  

"Ew."  She crinkled up her nose as she gestured at the table. "I brought you something real to eat."

He eyed the sandwich halves and the soup.  They did look good.  He finally focused on her enough to really take her in.  She appeared unperturbed and comfy in a ponytail and fuzzy red tracksuit.  If he only knew the truth to how she was feeling on the inside, he might not have felt so discombobulated himself.

She took a bite of her sandwich as she watched him studying her; clearly he was unsettled.  The surprise attack was a success.  

"But why…"

Donna wasted no more time before getting down to business. "Because we need to get a few things straight."

"We do?"  The words came out slowly as he instantly tensed.

"Yes… and furthermore, Josh, you know we do."

"I do?"  It was a lame response, but he had nothing else to say.

"Yes.  And I thought it would be best if we were able to do it under circumstances that were a bit more relaxed and comfortable than the last time we met."  Donna took a deep breath.  "Why don't you sit down and have something to eat?"

Warily, Josh did slowly sit down, but he only studied the food. 

"Go ahead.  It's not like I poisoned it or anything."  She managed to force a laugh into her voice as she said it. 

"Right."  Josh still didn't touch anything.  Not because he feared it, but because he feared what eating it might commit him to.  He wasn't ready to commit to anything, even a conversation.  It was also hard to look at her, she was so damn cute.   So he trained his eyes on the soup.  Donna had taken off the lid, and the aroma filled the room.  His stomach started to grumble.

He heard her clear her throat.  "So how's the campaign?"  

"What?"  Forgetting the soup, his eyes snapped back to her.

"I asked how the campaign was going," she repeated calmly. 

"You came in for a job yesterday, were denied, and today you're wandering in at midnight, asking me how the campaign is going in the same manner you'd… I don’t know… ask about the state of the rhododendrons in my garden?"

"You don't have rhododendrons."

"The point-"

"You don't even have a garden.  So I would never ask you that."

"Donna..." His whine was slight, but noticeable. 

"So when I came to see you yesterday-"

"Donna."  This time his voice was sharper as he tried to interrupt, but she wasn't having it.

"I was nervous.  I don't even know what I was thinking.  You know, I was much more nervous than when I came to your office all those years ago.  Can you imagine that?  Why would I be so nervous coming to see you, now, after all this time?"

Without answering, Josh just stared at her, trying to figure her out.  Deep down, he knew he didn't want it to be this way with her, tense like they were strangers; but at the moment he was so confused about her presence and purpose, he didn't know what to say.

"Yesterday, I got home and I was humiliated. Truly and utterly. I acted like I'd never seen you before or been through a job interview.  It was atrocious."   As she spoke of her embarrassment, the feelings snuck up on her once again and she brought one hand up in order to cover her eyes in shame.

Josh was extremely unsettled, but also curious about where she was going with this.  "So?"

"So…"  She steeled herself and got back on point.  "I thought if we were both a little more comfortable, it might be conducive to a more productive discussion.  So here I am."  She picked up her sandwich and took another bite.

Sighing, Josh shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Donna, I'm not going to change my mind.  It's not personal-"

"Oh, Josh."  She shook her head at him almost dismissively.  "Of course it's personal and I'm not here to change your mind."

That took him by surprise.  "Why are you here then?"

"I'm here…"  She paused and took a fortifying breath. "I'm here because I couldn’t sleep last night.  Not for a moment.  I kept replaying that disastrous scene of us in your office in my head.  All the things I should have said to you, the things I wished I hadn't said.  And I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be sleeping tonight, either.  So I had to do something.  Pickle?"

In a gesture of offering, she held up the wax paper that contained the deli-wrapped pickles.

Josh waved her off.  "Donna, I don't have the time for this."

"Yes, you do."  The way she said it so matter-of-factly caused annoyance to rise in his chest.

"Damn it, I'm trying to get a guy elected President. I have things I need to do."

"After midnight?"

"You know how it is-"

"Josh, if you're so busy you can't talk to me for a few minutes, where is the rest of your staff?  If there is such a crisis you can't take a half an hour to eat a sandwich and have a beer with me, why aren't they here with you?"

Donna sat up straight, letting her feet fall to the floor, and leaned forward in her chair.  "Josh, we, you and me, are at a crossroads.  And I care about you and our friendship enough to make one last-ditch effort to save it.  I know you… You'll never have the time.  You'll always put off the hard conversation.  And this is my way of not letting you do that.  I've had enough."

He was stunned by her direct manner and terrified at her words.  "Last-ditch?"

"By my calculation, yes."

Narrowing his eyes, he took her measure.  "What are you saying, we can't be…"  He tried to come up with a word to describe who she was to him, but he failed.  'Friends' didn't seem adequate or sadly, lately, even accurate, but it was all he had.  "You're saying we can't be friends anymore?"

"Yeah." Donna nodded once.

Josh's voice rose slightly.  "So I don't give you a job and it's the end… of… it's just the end?"

"You're mad at me."  Her voice was rougher now than it had been before. Donna's cool, calm, collected façade was beginning to crumble.

Was the temperature rising?  Her eyes drilled through him across the table and he felt himself begin to perspire. How was he able to sit across from the head of the teamsters and not blink, but this woman in a fuzzy red tracksuit and a ponytail made him sweat?

"I'm not."

"You are."

"You think I didn't give you a job because I’m mad at you?"

"I know you didn't give me a job because you're mad at me."

"Donna…"  Exasperatedly, he shook his head. "I couldn't give you a job, I showed you the file."

"For a while yesterday, I actually bought that as the reason.  That was, of course, after I got over thinking that you wouldn't consider me for the job because you didn't think I was good enough."

"I still have the folder; you can look at it again if you want."  

"That's not why you didn't hire me."

"It is, Donna. It really is.  You're the one who wanted to play in the big leagues.  But that means you also have to live with the consequences.  That's politics."

"Why do you have the folder, Josh?" 

"Huh?"  The question caught him off-guard.

"The folder that's apparently devoted to me and everything I said during the campaign."

"It's opposition research."

"Does Will have his own folder, compiled by you, in your desk?  He did a lot of positioning for Russell in the media."

Josh just stared at her without blinking.

"What about Bill Brewer?"

"Who?"

"Spokesperson for Hoynes.  What about Carol Hodges, who was with Baker?"  She glared at him and he didn't respond. He was sure that someone had a folder on those people, or at least what was said by the campaigns, lying around somewhere, but it certainly wasn't in his desk.  "I didn't think so.  Josh, I know you're mad at me because I know you.  And I know you didn't hire me because you're mad."

"That's not..."

"You're mad… because if you wanted to hire me, I know those comments I made about Santos wouldn't stop you.  They were typical political pot-shots. Jokes made at Santos’ expense to bolster my candidate. But I never lied. And I never played dirty."

"Those comments-"

"Those comments are exactly the type of thing you would have said.  They're exactly the kind of comments I learned from you."

"Maybe… but I wouldn't have hired myself either," Josh replied stubbornly.  

"Bullshit!"  Donna's voice rang out through the empty building.  Her calm exterior was gone.

Josh was taken aback for a moment, both by her choice of word and the force with which she'd said it.

Donna swallowed hard and tried to maintain her composure.  She'd promised herself that she would. Striving for a business-like tone, she continued.  "That's not true and you know it.  Sometimes I think you forget that I've been in politics for eight and a half years.  I know how it works in this town."

"Then you should be able to figure out why I couldn't hire you.  I didn't mean to hurt you, Donna. I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. I wish you hadn't come to me like that… you should have known."  He trailed off, looking more sad than angry. 

"Maybe you think you wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but you are punishing me."

Angrily, Josh pushed his chair back and stood. "So you think I should make an exception for you? Play favorites?  Just forget the role you played in Russell's campaign? I can't play favorites, Donna.  And I can't make exceptions… even for you."

"I didn't expect you to make an exception for me.   I would have been thrilled if you'd treated me like anyone else.  You forget… I know that anything can be spun and anything can be negotiated and anything can be worked out, if you want it."

"So therefore…"

"Therefore, you didn't not hire me because of any real political reason.  It's personal."

Josh clenched his fists at his sides.  He didn't ask for this tonight. He didn't need it and he wasn't in the mood to deal with it now. "So therefore you think I'm mad at you."

"Therefore I know you're mad at me. Yes."

"Maybe I just don't want you working here, Donna."

"Yes, you do," she said with a whole lot more confidence than she felt.

Josh pressed his palms into his eyes and roughly scrubbed his hand through his hair.  "God, Donna, I really don't have the time for this."

"Make the time."

"You came here with the sole purpose of picking a fight with me.  And I don't have time for that."

"Look around!  There is no one else here."  She gestured almost wildly.  "Everyone in town knows this campaign is woefully bottom-heavy.  You're going to run it into the ground because you're trying to do it all yourself.  Heck, you told me yourself that you don't trust anyone you have working for you.  At one time I would have doubted myself.  And I would have believed that you just didn't believe in me or my ability, but that's not true.  I spent eight years with you, and one without, proving myself."  She again gestured to the bullpen outside the glass conference room. "You want to hire me.  You need to hire me.  But you didn't because you," she pointed at him, "are mad at me.  So Josh, please, let's clear the air.  Tell me why you're mad at me."

"I'm not." He said it through clenched teeth.

"You are."

"You're delusional."

"And you're so mad at me you're putting your anger over the needs of your campaign."

"Grew a bit of an ego working for Bingo Bob, did you?" 

"It's not a hundredth the size of yours," she spit back at him.

He stared at her for a several long seconds and then shook his head at her.  "Just go home."

"You don't want to talk about this so much that you're willing to end the friendship instead of confronting the issue?"  She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. This was it.  The end.  She wasn't going to get emotional in front of him.  So she had to leave.  She'd thought if she just came to talk to him and was direct, maybe he would be, too. She'd overestimated him.  She grabbed her purse from the table, leaving all the food where it was, but before she turned to walk away she looked him dead in the eye and said coldly, "You, Josh Lyman, are a coward."  

Josh felt the words like a sucker punch to the gut.  A coward. Donna thought he was a coward.  How dare she?  She was the one who caused all of this to begin with.  He let her get about ten feet away from the conference room before he snapped.

"YOU LEFT ME!"  

She stopped in her tracks and steadied herself, before slowly turning back around.  His hands were on his hips, his nostrils flared and his face red.  After a minute she shrugged at him. "And that's it?"

"What do you mean, that's it?"  His voice was heated and his eyes blazed as he walked towards her in the darkened bullpen.

"That's why you're so mad at me. That's what you can't forgive me for? Because you think I left you?"

He didn't answer.

"I left my job as your assistant, albeit not in the most professional way possible, but I did it in order to do… what I needed to do professionally."

"You needed to go work for the enemy?" 

"No… I was going to leave no matter who I ended up working for.  You'd left me no other choice.  And Russell wasn't your enemy then.  He was the Democratic front-runner and you weren't even in the game.  It's crazy, I know, but at the time I thought you might actually respect me for it… or I don't know, maybe even be a little proud."

"Proud?  You thought that I'd be proud that you compromised yourself by working for a man who didn't deserve to set foot in the White House, let alone live there?  He didn't deserve you!"

"He didn't have me!"  Donna almost yelled.  "I was an employee.  Doing the right thing for my career."

"Bingo Bob was the right thing?" Josh snorted derisively.

"Every person you ever worked for was the real thing?  You never took a professional step forward because of advancement and opportunity rather than for the moral high-ground?  Think before you answer, Josh, I know where you've worked.   Bingo Bob," she stopped herself and took a calming breath. "I mean Bob Russell, is not half the man Matt Santos is, I know that, and Will isn't… well, he's not you, but they gave me a chance.  I quit a job as your assistant and within a few months I was a senior-level advisor and Russell's spokesperson."

"And I should be proud of you for that?"

"Damn straight!"  Donna's voice echoed off the walls of the cavernous bullpen and she met his glare head-on.  "Why aren't you?"

"Because I was out there… alone… trying to do the right thing for the party… the right thing for the country. And I needed you!"

The sentiment hit her hard, her heart fluttering and her gut twisting simultaneously.  He'd needed her and she wasn't there.  She'd always been there for him, but she'd failed this time.  "I was trying to do something more important with my professional life than fixing your suitcases and managing your Christmas party invitations."

"You did more than that."  

"It wasn't enough.  I needed you, too, Josh, but you didn't come through for me. So I had to come through for myself.  I'm sorry you judge me for that."

"I… I…"  He stuttered for a second and then shut his mouth.  What was he saying?  Objectively, he didn't judge her for her job with Russell, not really.  And he was proud of her. So proud it hurt at times, hurt because he hadn't been a part of her growth and he should have been. 

"I don't."  He answered softly.

She was about to continue yelling, when she realized what he'd said.  "You don't?"

"No, you're right."  He shook his head.  "When you're right, you're right. The file… that I have on you… it's impressive.  You're quite the wordsmith. I have no idea who you've been verbally sparring with the last eight or so years, but it paid off."  He tried to use a teasing tone but didn't quite get there.

Donna was too stunned to respond, and in that void Josh added simply but seriously, "I was impressed by your work." 

"Really?"  She felt the heat rise behind her eyes and blinked so that he wouldn't notice if any tears made an appearance.

"Yeah."

"You've been impressive, too," she conceded.

"You just said I was running the campaign into the ground."

"It's only five days after the convention. That can be rectified."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, before Donna spoke softly.  "You have to get over that I quit being your assistant."

"I am over it," he answered instantly.

"BULLSHIT!"

Stunned, Josh stared at her.  "That's twice.  You don't cuss."

"I do now.  Besides, I'm a little overexcited tonight and running on no sleep."

"Oh."  Josh was shocked. Not because she'd cussed at him, but because she was different, yet completely the same. She had a newfound confidence that he remembered from the campaign trail, but that she certainly hadn't had yesterday.  It was both disconcerting and comforting.

"If I'd left you, I wouldn't be standing here right now.  I wouldn't have come to you for a job. I didn't abandon *you*, Josh.  And I wouldn't have left my job like that if you had given me any other choice."

"You were mad."

"Yes, I was," Donna admitted.

"Really mad."

"Is that how you've justified staying mad at me?  That I was mad first?"

"Who said you were mad first?"

"Oh trust me, I was mad first."

Josh starred at her.  At Donna. She was back. She was standing right in front of him in the flesh.  His Donna fighting with him… caring enough to want to make things right.  Confronting everything neither of them had ever been willing to confront.   He felt unmistakable anxiety as he heard himself ask, "Why were we so mad at each other?"

"Why *were* we mad? 'Were' as in the past tense?"  Donna asked tentatively.

"Yeah, were."

She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth.  And in the dark, she saw it. Forgiveness. Her lips tugged upwards and when he saw her start to smile, he followed suit. They stood there in the half-dark, just staring at one another, slightly goofy, slightly shy half-smiles on their faces.  Finally she responded, "That's a brave question, are you sure you're ready to ask it?"

"You called me a coward earlier."  He still sounded a bit hurt.

"I know."  She reached over and placed her hand on his arm. The first physical contact they'd had all night. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his skin was warm under her fingers. "And you're not a coward, but I am surprised at the brave question."

"What's there to lose?" The pit in his stomach swirled ever larger, because he knew that the answer was everything.  

Not knowing what to say or how to respond, she just squeezed his arm and shrugged. He studied her carefully. "Why did you come tonight?"

"Because you said you missed me."

"Oh." Josh's eyes went wide, remembering his admission.

"And…"

"And why?"  

"And because all I really wanted from you yesterday was to hear you say that I was good.  And you didn't.  It's silly.  I know I'm good.  People out there," she pointed to the street, "know I'm good. I don't need you to make phone calls for me. I already have job offers all on my own.  But that didn't occur to you.  I didn't come see you yesterday because I was desperate and needed you to save me, I came to you because I wanted to help Santos get elected President and I want to work with you and because I wanted you to acknowledge that I'm good."  She felt her eyes go bright.  This was definitely breaking her no-emotion rule, but she didn't care.

He felt his heart constrict when he thought back on how much unnecessary pain he'd caused her, had caused both of them.  Her hand was still on his arm and his skin tingled under her light touch.  After a minute of silence, he finally said, "You can't be my deputy."

"I know."  Her eyes fell from his face and she let go of his arm.  Even though she knew that, it still hurt that that was his response to her speech.  "I truly didn't come here tonight for a job."

"No, you came here spoiling for a fight." There was actual amusement in his tone.

With a self-conscious smile, she admitted, "Yes, yes I did."

He took a small step forward so they were now just inches apart in the darkened room.  He reached down for the hand that had been resting on his arm and when he found it he laced their fingers.  Swallowing hard, he looked her in the eye.  "You're good, Donna.  Too good, you almost got him nominated.  You know that, don't you?  I credit a big part of that to you. You gave me fits. I was… I am proud of you.  I'm sorry I never said that to you.  I should have." 

A single tear snuck out of the corner of her eye and fell down her cheek. She'd waited so long for his approval.  The truth was she didn't need it, but it was so very gratifying to have it. With his free hand, Josh reached up and gently wiped it away with his thumb.  She trembled under his soft touch. "Do you still want a place in the campaign?"

"You just said-"

"I just said you couldn't be my deputy.  I didn't say we couldn’t use you."

"Oh…"  One look at his expression and she caught his meaning. "Oh, well, I honestly do want to help put Santos in the White House.  And I want to help you."

"What else do you want?"  He asked huskily, hope filling his voice.

She trembled at their nearness and at the raw intensity she saw in his eyes.  She began to hope in a way she hadn't allowed herself to in a really long time. "I want to be brave."  

"I want to be brave, too."  His voice was barely above a whisper. "How do we do that?"

She was about to say that she didn't know.  But then it hit her. You start at the beginning.

"How about we start by having a beer and some cold soup?" She motioned with her head towards the lights at the center of the room.

"Yeah."  He visibly relaxed and even emitted a small laugh as he put his arm around her shoulder, tugging her back towards the conference room. "Let's start by having some beer and cold soup."

The End.


End file.
